Because it was Thy pleasure, I became poor: but my heart
rejoiced. No power in the State was mine, because Thou wouldst not:
such power I never desired! Hast Thou ever seen me of more doleful
countenance on that account? Have I not ever drawn nigh unto Thee with
cheerful look, waiting upon Thy commands, attentive to Thy signals? Wilt
Thou that I now depart from the great Assembly of men? I go: I give Thee
all thanks, that Thou hast deemed me worthy to take part with Thee
in this Assembly: to behold Thy works, to comprehend this Thine
administration."
Such I would were the subject of my thoughts, my pen, my study, when
death overtakes me.
LXXXV
Seemeth it nothing to you, never to accuse, never to blame either God or
Man? to wear ever the same countenance in going forth as in coming
in? This was the secret of Socrates: yet he never said that he knew
or taught anything. . . . Who amongst you makes this his aim? Were it
indeed so, you would gladly endure sickness, hunger, aye, death itself.
LXXXVI
How are we constituted by Nature? To be free, to be noble, to be modest
(for what other living thing is capable of blushing, or of feeling the
impression of shame?) and to subordinate pleasure to the ends for which
Nature designed us, as a handmaid and a minister, in order to call forth
our activity; in order to keep us constant to the path prescribed by
Nature.
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